


Doctor Brew: Ravenous

by a_walking_shadow



Category: Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: (looking at you Big Finish), Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Human, Basically, F/F, Fluff without Plot, Gen, Helen and Liv are definitely in love, I physically cannot write them in the same story without shipping them, The eighth Doctor is going to get something nice for once, also, and I'm not going to take it away from him, his friends are NOT going to die horribly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 16:08:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17870438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_walking_shadow/pseuds/a_walking_shadow
Summary: The Tardis is an eclectic tea shop located at #107 Baker Street, London. Its owner, the self-styled Doctor Brew, runs the place with his closest friends, making the world better one cup of tea at a time.They're in trouble now, though. The Ravenous are coming. Are any of their preparations going to be enough?





	1. Storm Warning

**Author's Note:**

> I'm fully aware that this fic is completely self indulgent and so astoundingly specific that the number of other people who would want to read it is going to be very low. I don't care. I want 8 and his companions to live nice safe, happy lives. So I'm going to make that happen.

 ‘Doctor! We’ve got a problem!’ Liv pauses in the doorway, staring around in confusion. Usually, by this time in the morning, the Doctor’s bouncing around the room like Tigger on a sugar high, attempting to accomplish a minimum of six impossible things before breakfast. Now, though, there’s no sign of him.

A bleary-looking Charley is huddled over a mug of tea in the corner. At Liv’s look, she gestures behind the counter, with a movement which would probably be dismayed if it wasn’t quite so exhausted. Her heart sinks, and she crosses the room with trepidation.

Sure enough, the Doctor is up to his elbows in the coffee machine. ‘Hmm? Oh, hello, Liv. Pass me the wrench, will you?’

‘… Don’t tell me she’s broken down _again_.’

‘Broken? No, no, of course not! The old girl doesn’t break down, she’s made of far sterner stuff. I just thought that if I adjusted the diameter of the piping here and here, then we could- a-ha!’ The Doctor extracts himself from the coffee machine and turns it on with a flourish. It stutters, then makes a resounding clunk. He slumps, and wearily begin picking at the tubes again.

‘We’ve got bigger problems than a broken coffee machine right now, Doctor.’

‘Oh, yes. You were saying?’

‘I went past Eleven’s Eatery earlier today.’ He sighs at this, but still don’t look up from the machine.

‘Liv, Liv, Liv. We dealt with the challenge from The Eleven. Now, I know there might still be some bad blood between you-’

‘understatement of the century’

‘-but it’s over now. Eleven’s Eatery isn’t a threat to the Tardis anymore, he’s aiming for a different market entirely. You don’t need to worry about him.’

‘Oh, it’s over all right. He’s shutting down.’

‘…what?’

‘Yeah, that was pretty much my thought as well. I couldn’t believe that they would just give up, so I went to talk to them. The answer I got wasn’t exactly coherent, but they seemed to be trying to warn us of something.’

‘Well?’ Charley interrupts, looking far more awake than she had a minute ago. ‘Don’t keep us in suspense.’

‘I’m getting there. As I said, they weren’t exactly coherent. But what I did get was that someone called “the ravenous” is apparently after them, and apparently they’re coming for us next.’

The Doctor goes incredibly still. Given that it usually takes a gargantuan effort to keep him sitting in one place for more than a few seconds at a time, Liv finds this remarkably disturbing.

‘… I’m guessing that’s not good, then.’ Charley comments. What do they mean, “the ravenous”? Some particularly hungry customer?’

‘Staff meeting’, the Doctor growls. ‘Now.’

 

‘You know, I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing here’, Helen murmurs, as she files into the kitchen. ‘Given that I’m not a staff member.’

Molly just takes her arm and pulls her further in, coincidentally ensuring that she ends up crammed in next to Liv. ‘Don’t be silly, of course you should be here. You’re our best customer, that should be a job in itself given how much you put up with.’ Liv nods, vehemently. ‘And after what you did to help us against the Eleven? We should really start paying you.’

‘Oh, it was nothing, really’, Helen mumbles, but she makes no further objections, and doesn’t attempt to move away from Liv. Upon seeing this, Molly smirks. Charley attempts to do a discreet victory dance, which gets her some odd looks from C’rizz, but luckily Liv and Helen are far too distracted to notice.

‘-Liv?’ She jerks at her name, and shakes her head slightly to clear it, forcing her attention to the Doctor. ‘What was that? Sorry, my mind… wandered.’

‘The Eleven said that they were closing?’

‘Right, yes. Said that someone called the ravenous was after them and that they’d be coming here next. What does that mean, exactly?’

‘The Ravenous are a group of restaurant reviewers,’ the Doctor says, tiredly. ‘Not their real name, of course, but it’s what everyone in the business refers to them as. They’re ruthless. If they see even the slightest issue, they’ll tear us to shreds. And- well, we aren’t exactly mainstream. I don’t think we’re likely to have any of their so-called “essential qualities”.’

‘Does it actually matter, what they say?’ Charley asks. ‘You own this building, Doctor, and I don’t think finances are too much of a problem. Surely, we can just ignore it. One bad review shouldn’t be a problem.’

He shakes his head, curls bouncing. ‘No, no. It shouldn’t be, but the Ravenous are powerful, and well-connected. You know I’ve never cared for critics before. But if they write us up... They’ll ruin us. They could shut us down.’

‘We can’t let that happen’, C’rizz breathes. ‘I don’t-’ he doesn’t continue the sentence, but the words _I don’t have anywhere else to go_ echo in the silence that follows.

‘Are we sure this is actually happening? The Eleven could just be trying to drive us out.’ Helen seems rather nervous to actually contribute to the discussion, but no one overrules her. There’s a moment of silence following this suggestion.

‘That seems unlikely’, comments, rather surprisingly, Liv. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen them this panicked before, and I don’t know if any of them can act this well. As much as I want to celebrate them closing- and believe me, I do- I don’t think this is a trap.’

Silence again. The Doctor’s head is bowed, and he’s unable to look the others in the eye.

‘No. Don’t be ridiculous. This isn’t the end. We’ll find a way, Doctor. We always do.’ He does glance up at this, shooting a glare in Charley’s direction. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Charley. We can’t fight it. There’s nothing we can do. The Ravenous are coming. Maybe the Eleven has the right idea, closing down before they arrive! At least that way they might be able to start over again! This is it. Finally, a battle we can’t win.’

‘Well, we won’t know that until we try’, Molly says. The Doctor opens his mouth to disagree, but Molly beats him to it. ‘Now, that’s enough from you. We’ve faced challenges before, haven’t we? That mess with The Ides, and your old friend sending Dr Armstrong to try and shut us down. It didn’t work, did it? We faced off the Eleven too, and I daresay they can be far more terrifying than some group of food critics. And I know you handled all kinds of messes before I met you, as well. We’ll weather this one too.’ She glances around the room, smiling grimly at the determined stares she meets. ‘So, where do we start? Obviously, things need to be perfect whenever these Ravenous folks arrive. Any idea when that will be?’

Liv shakes her head. ‘The Eleven wasn’t very clear. I’d guess sometime in the next week or so, though.’

Molly nods. ‘All right, then. Will Lucie be in here at all? Do we need to update her?’

‘She’s in Blackpool for the next fortnight’, Charley volunteers. ‘I’m sure she’ll come down if we ask her to, though.’

‘Probably best to keep her up to date, even if we don’t need her here. Can you call her?’ Charley nods, and heads towards the door to the stairwell. ‘I’ll call Edith, too’, and, seeing the confusion on several faces, adds ‘she supplied me with Mrs Baddeley’s plum pudding recipe. I’ll see if she has anything else we can make. Those sold like- well, sold like hot cakes, I suppose.’ Several people nod at that, so she scurries for the stairs.

‘Liv? Think you can get the coffee machine running again? We may be a tea shop, but we do still need it.’

‘I’ll do my best.’ Liv glances at the mess of pipes sprawling across the counter, and mentally offers thanks for several years of engineering courses. This might not have been how she planned to use them, but they’re certainly coming in handy.  

‘I can decorate’, C’rizz offers, nervously. ‘The tables are looking a bit dull, and we haven’t changed the art in a while.’

‘A while?’

C’rizz mutters something which sounds distinctly like ‘the passage of time is a social construct.’ Molly decides not to ask, and instead eyes the front room critically. Now that he brings it up, several of the tablecloths are looking dull, and vases full of flowers are drooping. And, for all that he’s currently wrapped in a fluorescent orange hoodie several sizes too large, with a few strands of turquoise hair falling over his eyes, C’rizz does actually have a good eye for colour theory when he puts his mind to it.

‘Good idea. Right. Well, I’m going to clean the kitchen. I’m not risking these ravenous fellows having a legitimate complaint. Coming, Doctor?’

‘What?’ He jerks, looking slightly dazed. In response, Molly pulls the mop out of its storage spot, and shoves it into his hands. ‘Oh. Right.’ Still looking rather bewildered, he obediently reaches for a bucket. Molly grins, and searches for some cleaning supplies for herself.

They’ll be fine, even if she has to make it happen herself.


	2. Sweet Salvation

‘Hello? Who’s there?’

‘Edith? Hello, it’s Charley. Do you remember me?’ There’s a pause, and Charley bites her lip. This could get awkward.

‘Charley? Charlotte Pollard, is that you?’

‘Yes, Edith, it’s me. How have you been?’

‘Charley! My god! I don’t believe it! Goodness, I was thinking about you just the other day! I was talking with Frederick- you remember, Frederick of course, with his Bentley. Or was it Chrysler? No matter, everyone remembers Frederick. He’s doing well now, you know-’

‘Edith’, Charley interrupts, ‘I’m not all that interested in what Frederick is up to these days, really. I’d far prefer to hear about you.’

‘Oh, I’m- I’m sure you don’t want to hear about me, miss. I’m not that interesting. I’d much rather hear about you, if that’s alright.’

Charley fights back the urge to sigh. Edith was always like this- completely lacking in self-worth, and quick to attach herself to anyone she deemed as even slightly important. 

‘I’ve been well’, she replies. May as well get this bit over with. ‘I’m still working in London, believe it or not. My friend the Doctor- well, he owns a tea shop on Baker Street. You should come visit us sometime, Edith. It’s called the Tardis, only house on the street with a blue door, you couldn’t possibly miss it.’

‘A tea shop? Goodness, Charley, that sounds posh! Well, you always were, weren’t you?’

‘It’s… not exactly what I was aiming for, I’ll admit’, Charley comments. ‘I _was_ planning on Singapore. It turns out I didn’t quite get that far. Not yet, anyhow. There’s still plenty of time.’

‘Of course there is, Charley. I’m so happy for you. It sounds like you’ve got yourself nicely set up, though! I can’t see why you’d bother talking to me now, when you can do so many amazing things.’

‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Edith, of course I’ll still want to talk to you.’

‘Really? Thanks, Charley, that means a lot. I just don’t see why you’d bother calling me, though.’

‘Well, actually, I did have a request to make.’

‘Of course. I’ll help you any way that I can, poppet, you know that? Anything at all.’

‘Thank you, Edith. This should be a reasonably easy request, I hope. Do you remember a few years ago, when I came by the house you’re working in now and asked for Mrs Baddeley’s plum pudding recipe!’

‘Yes, you did! I remember that. It was a good move of yours. Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without Mrs Baddeley’s plum pudding, would it? Christmas just wouldn’t be Christmas!’

‘Well- no, I suppose it wouldn’t be. But I was wondering-’

‘What is it, Charley?’

‘I don’t suppose you have any other recipes of hers? For cakes and things. Only, the plum pudding is excellent, but it is possible to have too much of a good thing.’

‘I’m sorry, poppet. But Mrs Baddeley didn’t really make anything other than her plum pudding. It was just so good, you see. Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without it! She hardly needed to make anything else, did she?’

‘… No, I suppose she didn’t. And you don’t happen to have any of your own, Edith?’

‘Me? Don’t be silly. I’m not going to have anything like that. I’m not a good enough cook.’

C’rizz wanders into the room, several vases balanced precariously in his arms. He sets them down on a nearby table with surprising gentleness, and jerks an eyebrow at her. Charley shakes her head, then makes her excuses to Edith.

‘No luck’, she says. ‘I don’t think I’ll be coming up with another bestselling dish anytime soon. Not from my family’s records, at any rate.’

C’rizz shrugs slightly. ‘The Doctor might have some ideas. He seems to know an awfully large number of people.’ She snorts. ‘Perhaps. But did you see him this morning? He looked about ready to give up, which...’

‘Not usual, I take it?’ he asks, pulling a bunch of flowers out of one of the vases and deftly removing the dying ones. Charley watches, entranced, as brown-flecked petals cascade downwards. ‘Hmm? Oh, not at all. The Doctor doesn’t give up. Ever. Not even when- well. That was before you met him, I suppose. But it takes a lot more than threats from authority figures to make him give up.’

‘I suppose these Ravenous people must be quite dangerous, then’, C’rizz mutters. He looks remarkably subdued, and Charley curses herself for not noticing it earlier.

‘We aren’t going to let them win, C’rizz. Don’t worry. This place is home for me, too. I’m not letting anyone take it away from me.’ He nods, but still looks doubtful as he ducks back out of the room.

 

‘We might not be able to’, the Doctor murmurs, from behind her. She jumps, turning. He’s leaning against the wall, head bowed, but still looking slightly less dazed than he had earlier in the morning.

‘Well, we’re going to find a way’, she tells him. ‘None of us are abandoning this place, not if I have any say in it. And if that means we spend the next week on next to no sleep, searching for a solution, then so be it. We’re all in this together, Doctor, whether you like it or not. You can’t decide not to fight. This is about all of us, now.’

He stares at her, unblinking, and she holds his gaze until he huffs out a laugh. ‘Charley, Charley, Charley. What to do with you? Oh, I’m not going to roll over to them, if that’s what you’re worried about’, they add, when the panic shows on her face. ‘More important places than ours have shut their doors to the Ravenous, I almost wonder if the Eleven has the right idea, but…’

‘But you can’t do it, can you, Doctor?’

They smile. ‘Of course not. I’ll defend the Tardis no matter what they try, and I- I’m just happy I have someone to do it with.’

Charley smirks. ‘Oh, you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon. Or the others, I’d bet. We’re all quite attached to her. Now, do you have something for me, or are you just trying to avoid Molly and get out of mopping the kitchen?’

He barks a laugh, then heads over to the bookshelves, and pulls down a leather-bound volume. It’s falling to pieces, an appearance not at all helped by the sheer number of loose slips of paper which have been jammed into it.

‘My address book’, the Doctor says as an explanation. ‘It’s not very well organised, I’m afraid, but C’rizz is right, I’m sure there’s someone in here who can help.’

Charley nods, and settles into her favourite armchair, then flicks to the first page. Sure enough, there seem to be dozens of loose scraps of paper, some with addresses, some phone numbers, and very few with corresponding names. She sighs.

It looks like it’s going to be a long day.

 

Several hours later, and Charley is getting very frustrated.

Most of the numbers she’s called have been out of service. A handful went straight to voicemail, and she doubts that she’ll get a reply from any of them- not when she doesn’t even know who she’s calling, half the time. Even the ones that did answer tended to be slightly less friendly, once she says who she’s calling on behalf of.  
Why, exactly, the Doctor saved this many phone numbers for people who aren’t pleased to talk to him is a bit of a mystery, and not one she’s expecting the answer to anytime soon.

Rubbing her eyes, Charley flicks yet another page. This one, luckily, has a name as well as contact details. She punches in the number, and lets it ring.

‘Hello? This is Dr Evelyn Smythe, can I help you?’

‘Doctor Smythe? Hello. Um, my name is Charley Pollard. I’m a friend of the Doctor’s.’

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. ‘What on Earth has the Doctor gotten into now?’

‘How did you-’

‘My dear, if you’ve spent much time around him, you’ll know that the man has a truly fantastical ability to get embroiled in things he shouldn’t. He can be infuriating like that.’

She laughs, surprised. ‘He can be, rather.’ On the other end of the line, Evelyn chuckles. ‘So what trouble has he gotten you into, then?’

‘For once, I don’t think this is actually his fault- no, really’, she adds, when Evelyn makes a sound of disbelief. ‘There’s apparently this group of food critics called the Ravenous, and if we can’t convince them that our café is a good one, then all kinds of terrible stuff will happen. Or something. I’m not actually too clear on that part, honestly.’

An awkwardly long pause. ‘The Doctor’s running a café now?’

‘Yes. Well, more of a tea shop, really. The Tardis, at 107 Baker Street. You didn’t know that?’

Evelyn coughs, slightly. ‘Ah, the Doctor I knew was quite the character. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. How am I supposed to be able to help with this one, though?’

Charley is so shocked to actually receive a genuine offer of help that it takes her an embarrassingly long time to make the request itself. Evelyn is polite enough not to mention it. She just waits until Charley finishes, and then comments, ‘if you’re running a café, I’m sure you already have a good chocolate cake recipe.’

‘Well, if you’ve got a better one, I’m definitely not going to say no.’

‘Well then.’ Charley can almost hear the smile in the woman’s voice. ‘The Doctor was always fond of this one. You might have a bit of a challenge making sure there’s enough left to sell.’

‘Oh, we’ve got plenty of experience doing _that_. Honestly, it’s usually just a matter of asking the right question in a desperate-enough sounding voice, and you’ll have him distracted for hours.’

Evelyn laughs at that, and Charley finds herself smiling. Perhaps some good will come out of this whole mess.


	3. Memory Lane

‘C’rizz? Have you been painting again?’ Instinctively, he pulls his sweater down to cover the smear of paint on his hand. He’s wearing blue, today. Helen hasn’t known him for very long, but she’s pretty sure that blue means a good day. Better than orange, at any rate.

‘I’m sorry. I should get back to work.’ C’rizz ducks his head and scurries back towards the counter. Helen bites her lip. It often feels like she says the wrong things all the time, around him. Liv told her not to worry- apparently, he’s like that with most people- but it’s still embarrassing. Helen wants to spend more time ~~with Liv~~ here, but she can’t help but feel like a burden. The staff here are basically a family, and there’s no way they’ll accept her if she frightens C’rizz.

‘He isn’t talking to you either?’ Helen jumps, giving Liv a slightly sheepish smile. ‘No, although I’m never sure what to say to him, so that isn’t a surprise. Why? Is he not talking to you?’

Liv glances around the room, eyeing the handful of occupied tables cautiously. They’re relatively quiet right now- the pre-work rush is well and truly over but it’s early enough that they haven’t hit the main lunch crowd. Decision made, she slides into the seat next to Helen, who obligingly shuffles some of her books out of the way. ‘Nope. He’s not saying a word to any of us. Not even Charley, and he’s usually pretty open with her.’

‘Oh. Is that a problem, do you think?’

Liv shrugs, slightly. ‘Hard to say with him, isn’t it? He’s wearing blue, though. I think I mentioned that C’rizz reads a lot into colours? Well, as long as he isn’t in white, we’re probably fine.’

‘And white means…’

‘Not a clue. I think it has something to do with that cult his father was in though.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah.’ Liv slumps back, eyes drifting around the room. None of the other customers seem to need her attention, and none are showing the slightest bit of interest in their conversation. Quietly, she adds, ‘I don’t know much. He was already here when I arrived. But from what he’s said, I think it’s a very good thing he’s got the Doctor and Charley in his corner. I’m not sure where he’d be, otherwise.’

‘It’s good that the Doctor keeps an eye on him,’ Helen replies. The subject of their discussion is currently deep in discussion with the Doctor, over by their collection of teas. Or, rather, the Doctor is gesticulating wildly and talking at a mile a minute, and C’rizz is nodding and making appreciative sounds in all the right places. Clearly, he’s mastered the techniques necessary for working in this place. Charley- currently engaged in a rather vicious duel with the coffee machine- looks almost proud of him.

‘Kind of what he does, I guess. Collecting strays.’ Liv hesitates for a moment before adding ‘that’s certainly what happened to me.’

‘Liv.’

She smiles bitterly. ‘Degree in medical engineering, and here I am, working in a tea shop. Fat lot of use it’s turned out to be.’

‘Nonsense. I _know_ you’ve gotten work with one of the hospitals around here, I’ve seen you with Molly and her friend- Martin, isn’t it? The war veteran who lost his leg? Now, it might not be exactly what you want, but you’ve got a foot in the door. Keep at it and I’m sure you’ll get to do all kinds of things.’

Liv pauses, running her fingers along the grooves in the table. Helen’s almost worried that she’s gone too far, but then she says, ‘I’m not so sure that I do want to keep at it.’

Helen blinks. ‘Okay, then. You’d prefer to stay here?’

Liv stares at her. ‘You think it’s that simple?’

‘Well, isn’t it? You’re happy here, and those idiots at the hospital don’t appreciate you. The Doctor does. Frankly, if anyone tries to convince you otherwise, then they’re fools for not intervening earlier.’ She can feel her cheeks burning, but she forces herself to hold Liv’s gaze. Her friend deserves better than this, and apparently no one else is willing to tell her.

Liv, for her part, huffs out a laugh, and eyes Helen cautiously. ‘What, you think I should just say that? Commit myself to working here for the rest of my life?’

‘Who are you and what have you done with Liv? She’s utterly fearless and would definitely leap at the chance to tell off her boss. She certainly does it here, often enough.’

‘Oh, hush, you,’ Liv laughs, bumping her shoulder slightly. ‘The Doctor’s… different. He’s great, and I’ll be eternally thankful that he offered me a job here. But it’s not like I need to respect his every word to be happy about that.’

‘Well, I’m certainly glad you’re working here’, Helen says, and then, ploughing onwards before she can run out of courage, adds ‘otherwise I doubt I would’ve met you.’

Liv freezes, slightly. Helen’s heart plummets. ‘Yeah. I, uh, I’m really happy about that too. Meeting you makes a lot of things worthwhile.’

‘Liv? Liv! I just had an idea! What if we- can you come over, please?’ They jerk apart at the Doctor’s interruption, and Liv scrambles to her feet before hesitating, glancing at Helen one more time. ‘Go’, she says. ‘I’ll be here all afternoon, probably.’

‘Sorry about that,’ Molly says, bustling out of the kitchen and refilling Helen’s tea. ‘The Doctor doesn’t really understand stuff like tact, does he?’

‘Oh, it’s fine,’ Helen assures her. ‘I shouldn’t be monopolising Liv’s time, anyway. She _is_ supposed to be working.’ Molly just laughs, shakes her head, and disappears again.

Whatever bizarre idea the Doctor has manages to keep Liv busy for hours. Since it appears to involve attempting to force several herbal teas into tubes connected to the coffee machine, Helen isn’t sure she wants to know the details. Liv has the rather horrified look of someone watching a train crash in progress, even before the Doctor thrusts a spanner into her hands, which Helen probably shouldn’t find so amusing. As it is, she makes a mental note not to risk coffee for a few days. She doesn’t doubt her friend’s talent, not in the slightest. But there are some messes which are well beyond the abilities of any sane person to control. The Doctor, in the time she’s known him, has proved remarkably adept at creating them.

‘You were right.’ A voice interrupts her musings, and she forces herself back to the present with a jolt. She glances at her watch, sheepishly. It turns out she’s been watching Liv fight with the coffee machine- well, coffee and tea machine now, she would guess- for over half an hour.  
This translation is proving to take far longer than it ought to. Oh well.  
C’rizz is standing by her table, looking somewhat awkward. Well, more awkward than he usually does. He looks nervous too, actually visibly shifting his weight from one foot to the other, hands fidgeting with the edge of his hoodie.

‘I was painting.’ Helen blinks, and nods, feeling that he must be going somewhere with this.

‘Would you like to see it?’ She starts. Since he hasn’t been saying anything to any of the others, this is a definite shock.

‘I’d love to. If you’re willing to show me, that is.’

He nods slightly, and then shuffles towards the back. She takes that as an invitation to follow him, and ducks behind the counter in his wake.

She glances around curiously when they reach the top of the stairs. The whole house had been renovated to make way for the café downstairs, and, although the Doctor still lives on this floor, most of the other rooms have ended up being tied to the business somehow- as storerooms, mainly. Liv used to have a room here, too, but ended up sharing a flat with Molly soon before Helen met them. She’s pretty sure all the staff have actually lived here, at some point or another.

She hasn’t been upstairs since- well. Since she somehow got dragged into the mess which arose when the Eleven decided to open up around the corner. And then again when the Eleven recruited and/or were recruited by the Candyman, which really should have been a separate incident in and of itself, although most of them tended to consider it as just a continuation of the previous saga.

… for a group running a tea shop, the Tardis crew certainly do have an impressive propensity for bizarre situations.

The room looks quite similar to how she remembers it- floor to ceiling bookshelves without any kind of obvious organisational system, which make her archivist tendencies itch, and a handful of battered looking, mismatched armchairs shoved haphazardly around a dented coffee table weighed down with random objects. There are, undoubtedly, some differences, but the sheer level of chaos means she’d have quite the challenge actually working out what has changed, and what’s just been moved around.

C’rizz leads her through to what used to be a bedroom. It’s still got a bed shoved in the corner, although it appears to currently be home to about a dozen different coloured tablecloths. Hopefully this isn’t where he sleeps- no, she’s sure Liv mentioned once that he’s flat-sharing with Charley, and they seem to be engaged in a competition to see who drives who insane first.

Standing in the corner of the room is an easel. C’rizz hesitates, and shuffles to the side so that she can see it properly.

‘C’rizz, it’s… beautiful.’ It’s not a lie, that much is certain. She steps closer, fascinated. It isn’t like anything she’s ever seen before- and, since she works in a museum, she’s seen an awful lot of art. There’s a planet, that much she can tell, and a sky, but beyond that, the details are confusing, jumbled.

‘I realised that we don’t have very much art to put on the walls’, C’rizz mumbles. ‘I thought, maybe, if it’s okay, I could put this up. Just for a while. Except it might be too weird. And the Doctor wouldn’t know that, would he?’

She tears her eyes away from the painting, and glances at him. He still looks nervous, and she scrambles for something coherent to say. ‘It’s astonishing’, she manages. ‘I had no idea you were such a good artist. Where on Earth did you get the idea from?’

‘L’da’, he replies. She scrambles for a moment, wondering where she’s heard the name before. _Oh._ One of the few names that came up in association with his past. The only one which didn’t provoke nasty, occasionally violent, reactions. ‘She liked to tell stories.’

‘It’s beautiful’, she repeats. L’da probably wasn’t the girls’ actual name. Just like C’rizz was really a Chris, L’da would be- what? Lisa? Lidya? But- Helen has never met the girl. From the way C’rizz talks about her, always in past tense, she doubts she ever will. And maybe the weird, fantastical name would be a better way to remember her. Just like C’rizz is the odd boy in the tea shop with the paint and Chris would be someone else entirely.

‘Did you have anywhere specific you wanted to hang it?’ She asks him. ‘Because if not- well, there’s a bit of blank wall next to where I usually sit. And I’d love to get the chance to examine it more. If that’s alright, of course.’

When he smiles- actually smiles- at her, and immediately goes to hang his masterpiece next to her usual sofa, Helen feels that, for once, she might have actually said the right thing.


	4. Horror of Glam Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I'm sorry about this one. I had a plan for it, then Lucie turned up, and I no longer had anything even resembling a plotline. 
> 
> Hopefully it's even half as fun to read as it was to write, though. (I may have been somewhat sleep deprived when I wrote this...)

‘Doctor? You here? Oi, open up, you twat!’

‘… is that…’

Charley glances at the door, and smirks. ‘Yep. I did tell her she didn’t need to come down. I guess Blackpool wasn’t as interesting as the Doctor getting into more trouble.’

‘Should we leave her out there? It’s been a long day, after all.’ Charley almost seems to be considering Molly’s suggestion, but before she can reply, the Doctor comes bounding down the stairs, and swings the door open. ‘Lucie! You’re here!’

‘Well, of course I’m here, Doctor. You’re in trouble, aren’t you? Where else am I supposed to be?’

‘Ah- Preston, I thought.’

‘Blackpool, actually. If it was Preston, I’d have been here yesterday.’

‘I’m so glad you have your priorities in order.’

‘Of course I do,’ Lucie replies, apparently deciding not to rise to the bait. ‘And you clearly need me here, because you lot don’t stand a chance otherwise.’

‘Don’t we? Why, I thought we were doing just swell, my dear, positively spiffing-’ Charley’s outburst is cut off when Molly reaches over and whacks her on the back of her head with a pillow. ‘Ignore the posh lady. We’re happy to have you, Lucie’, Molly assures, dancing backwards out of reach of Charley’s retaliation.

‘Oh, you wound me! Doctor, I’m wounded! My allies have betrayed me! C’rizz, surely you, at least, will stick by my side!’ C’rizz, for his part, takes in the chaos with wide eyes, then wordlessly turns around and retreats back up the stairs. Realising that she’s been completely deserted, Charley flings herself dramatically onto a nearby sofa.

‘Har har har’, the Doctor mutters. ‘Lucie, I presume you had a specific reason for turning up on my doorstep at nine o’clock at night, and it wasn’t just to cause discord amongst my staff?’

‘As a matter of fact, I did’, she replies, ignoring Charley and perching herself on the countertop. ‘You need to make this place perfect for when this ravenous lot turns up.’

‘Pretty much. Got any suggestions, oh enlightened one?’ Charley asks, before returning to overdramatic sulking.

‘You bet I do! Place like this, it goes for the alternative vibe, right? And sure, that means art- nice one on the wall over there by the way, where the scholar lady usually is- but it also means music. it’s all about _atmosphere_.’

‘We’ve got plenty of that!’ The Doctor protests. ‘and we do play music! Good music!’

‘Not if you’re still playing that shitty guitar music you were last time I came down, you don’t.’

‘Hey!’ The Doctor cries. ‘Fitz Fortune makes good music! And he’s an old friend of mine!’

‘Course he is’, Lucie replies. ‘And my Auntie Pat was in a rock band called Methylated Spirits, back in the day. That didn’t make them _good_.’ Despite herself, Charley snorts.

The Doctor scowls. ‘So, clearly my music choice doesn’t work. Then we can go with someone else. Charley, perhaps.’

‘No way. Her stuff isn’t even last decade, it’s last century.’

‘Molly, then.’

‘Somehow, she’s worse.’

‘Liv?’

‘Depressing.’

‘C’rizz?’

‘… Does he actually listen to music?’

‘… Alright, point taken.’

Lucie smirks. ‘Admit it. You need me. Otherwise you lot are just a bunch of losers with a tea shop and a bad choice in music.’

‘And with you,’ Charley retorts, ‘we’re a bunch of losers with a tea shop and a _loud_ choice in music.’

‘Oi!’

‘Children, please!’ The Doctor interrupts. Both of them fall silent. ‘Lucie, do you really think that changing the music would actually help?’

She shrugs. ‘Couldn’t hurt. Mind showing me what you’ve got right now? I’ll be sensible with it, I promise.’

The Doctor smiles, and leads her to the dedicated laptop, rambling the whole way about the upgrades he’s made to the speaker system since she was last here.

‘Oh, how sweet’, Charley mutters. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’m going to go and, oh, I don’t know. Dye my hair. No, wait, I’ll redye C’rizz’ hair. Or maybe paint his fingernails. I think he’d look great with blood red nails, like talons, don’t you think, Doctor?’

‘Hmm? Oh, yes, go ahead, Charley’, the Doctor mutters, clearly not paying her the slightest bit of attention. She rolls her eyes and stomps upstairs. Lucie listens carefully, and she distinctly gives up the pretence of angry stomping after the fifth step. She’s pretty sure that by the ninth, Charley has dissolved entirely into giggles. It’s good to know some things don’t change.

Smiling slightly, she focuses her attention on the playlist the Doctor’s pulled up for her. Instantly, her smile fades.

‘WHAT? The Tomorrow Twins? No. Just no. Frankly, I’m surprised that anyone comes in here if that’s what you’re playing!’

 

* * *

Lucie’s gone, by the time they turn up for work the following morning. When Molly asks the Doctor about it, she gets a mumbled comment about a hedgehog sanctuary, unionisation, and a stray pair of dentures.

She decides the best thing she can do is nod and head to the kitchen to beat bread dough into submission. On the way past, she taps Charley on the shoulder.

‘Why does C’rizz have purple hair and painted fingernails, now?’

‘Hmm?’ Charley glances up from where she’s writing up the specials board. ‘Oh, just proving a point. I think he looks quite good, don’t you?’

Again, Molly just nods, and decides to leave Charley to her own devices. She’s an adult now, she’ll be fine. Probably.


	5. Scenes from Her Life

Molly and Charley exchange a glance. It’s just hit four o’clock, meaning that the main afternoon tea crowd has passed. There’s only a handful of occupied tables in the parlour.

Helen Sinclair’s usual spot is conspicuously empty. It really couldn’t be any more obvious, especially given the way Liv’s eyes slide towards it every minute or so.

It’s odd, for all of them. Helen has been a near-constant presence for months now. Oh, sure, she still has an office in the museum. But she turns up on their doorstep when they open in the morning, well before the main crowd. She sits in the corner with her usual mug of tea, only disappearing briefly when the main rush hits around eight. She’ll be back not long after nine, once she’s managed to duck in and check that no one’s actually looking for her at the museum. Then she settles into the corner again, this time laden down with passages to translate and the occasional paper to write, and she’ll stay there, often until they close.

At some point, she’s become part of the household. The Doctor doesn’t particularly want to admit it, but all of them know that, sooner or later, Helen’s going to end up working for them somehow. Just because there’s no logic to it- she’s got a steady job, in a field which has nothing to do with working in a café- doesn’t mean it won’t happen. It didn’t stop Molly O’Sullivan the nursing student from joining their roster, and Liv Chenka the medical engineer was an even less likely recruit. Yet here they are.

Liv, though, is far more disturbed by Helen’s absence than the rest of them.

‘Does she even know?’ Charley hisses to Molly, careful not to draw Liv’s attention to their conversation. It’s not hard. The other woman is staring mournfully at Helen’s usual spot, and is so distracted she hasn’t even remembered to complain about the Doctor swapping the milk and water spouts on the coffee machine again.

‘Know what? That she looks like a pining teenager, or that she’s actually in love?’ Molly murmurs back, up to her elbows in dishwater. ‘Though I think the answer to both of those is no.’

Charley snickers, then scurries for the cash register as a new customer wanders in. Liv certainly isn’t in a position to handle it, and putting either the Doctor or C’rizz in the role tends to end badly.

By the time she’s finished, Liv has moved from mournful staring to hunched-shoulder tea brewing, which honestly isn’t much of an improvement. Sure enough, Molly wanders out of the kitchen and starts a different pot right next to her, and Liv doesn’t even notice. She _does_ look up when she realises what it is that Molly’s brewing, though, and glances around the room excitedly.  
There’s still no sign of Helen.

‘Here’, Molly says, practically slamming a take-away cup down onto the bench in front of her friend. Liv jumps in shock. ‘Take it to her.’

‘But-’

‘Just go, Liv! We’ve got things handled here. You’re just getting in the way, pacing like that,’ Molly chides. ‘You’ll feel better if you see her. Now go.’

Liv glances around, clearly expecting some kind of argument, but for once, even the Doctor and C’rizz seem to be aware of the situation. As soon as she realises that no one’s arguing, Liv scoops up the tea and practically bolts for the door, calling out something vaguely reassuring over her shoulder.

There’s a moment of silence once she’s gone. Molly is the first one to break it.

‘Who wants to bet that they’ll finally end up as a couple today?’

‘No betting on your colleagues, that’s rude’, the Doctor says, at the exact same time as Charley’s ‘oh, I certainly hope so’, and C’rizz’ quieter ‘I think they’re going to wait until we’ve survived a visit from the Ravenous before confirming it.’

The Doctor throws his hands in the air. ‘All right! My money would be on today, too. If I was a betting person. Which I’m not. And this is definitely very rude.’ 

 

* * *

 

‘Helen? You here?’

Liv forces herself to slow to a walk once she enters the back rooms of the museum. She’s been here before, occasionally, helping Helen ferry books back and forth to the Tardis. Helen has always seemed far more at home in their café than she has in this place, though. When Liv has accompanied her, the pair of them often end up creeping through corridors, ducking past windows, and generally trying to avoid actually engaging with any of the other staff.

‘Helen?’ she calls, again, once she’s safely around the corner and out of sight of one of the offices which Helen avoids like the plague. There’s no response, although the door to her office is open. Liv frowns, and forces herself forward, heart slamming in her chest. Maybe she isn’t in, maybe she’s just ducked out to the bathroom or something-

_~~Maybe she doesn’t want to see you, maybe you’re reading this wrong, maybe-~~ _

The rhythmic tapping of someone typing on a keyboard emerges from Helen’s office. She’s definitely there. Taking a shaky breath, Liv forces herself to walk the last few steps to the doorway.

‘Hey. Uh, I brought you this.’

Helen glances up, and immediately moves to close whatever’s on her screen, flustered. ‘Liv! You- you brought me tea?’

‘Yeah, uh, I was worried when you didn’t come in today, so…’ Liv trails off, nervously, and, having apparently run out of words, offers Helen the tea instead.

Helen, for her part, is so shocked that it’s several seconds before she moves to take it. ‘Why on Earth would you come all the way out here? You didn’t have to, Liv, really. I certainly wasn’t expecting anything like it!’

‘I was worried, really. It isn’t like you not to come by, and you didn’t reply to my messages. I thought- well, I don’t know what I was thinking, really. Maybe that your terrible coworkers had cornered you or something.’

Helen laughs, slightly. ‘Oh, nothing like that. I just had a fair bit to catch up on, and thought it would be best to work here for a while.’

‘Oh! Do you want me to go, or…?’

‘No, no, stay! If you aren’t busy, of course. I know you’re supposed to be working as well, and I can’t expect you to waste your afternoon sitting in an office with little old me. I’m not exactly exciting company, am I?’

‘No, you’re great company. Perfect, really.’ Liv hesitates for a moment, almost like she’s going to say something else, but changes her mind and hops up on a stretch of bench. ‘So. What is it that’s so important you couldn’t come down, then?’

‘Oh, nothing, really. There’s this tricky, ah, Sumerian translation, but I’m sure I’ll work it out soon enough. I’m sorry, it’s really not that interesting.’

‘No, go on. I like hearing you talk.’

Helen looks remarkably flustered at this, but obligingly begins explaining the intricacies of the language. Her heart clearly isn’t in it, though, her eyes flicking from Liv, to her computer screen, then back again. Eventually, Liv leans over, and peers at the screen. 

‘This isn’t Sumerian.’ Helen slumps in her seat, unable to meet Liv's eyes. She clearly doesn’t want to say any more, but when Liv leans over her shoulder to get a better look at the screen, she makes no move to stop her. 

'Googling the Ravenous, huh? Oh, Helen. We've all done that now. You don't have to worry about it, that's not your job.' 

‘I know that! But, well... I’m worried, Liv. I’ve never seen the Doctor like that before, not even during everything that happened with the Eleven! So I had to have a look.'

‘And you didn’t find anything good.’

'The Doctor's right. Almost everywhere they go, places close. I don't know how we're supposed to stop them.' 

‘We’ll be fine, Helen. Look. This one- they got shut down over a health and safety complaint. The Doctor’s careless about a lot of things, but food safety isn’t one of them. This one here? Police shutdown due to suspicion of crime lord involvement. They can’t get us for that. These three- all new restaurants in the spotlight. The Tardis has been on Baker Street for years, one bad review isn’t going to force customers away, not like it does for newer places.’

‘Yes, but- but what if you aren’t? What if something goes wrong?’

‘Helen-’

‘I’m being ridiculous, I know that. But.’ She pauses, takes a shaky breath, forces herself to look Liv in the eye. ‘I’m fully aware that it’s stupid for me to worry about this, Liv, but I- I care about you, and I’m worried that this is going to go badly and the Tardis is going to close and I don’t know what I’ll do then! I don’t know how I’m going to handle it if I don’t get to spend time with you!’ That said, she stumbles to her feet and hurries towards the door, clearly terrified of the reaction.

Liv’s left there, shocked, scrambling for words.

‘Damnit, Helen! I love you, alright?’

Helen freezes, but doesn’t turn around, so Liv continues- ‘I’ve been in love with you basically since the moment we met. And when you faced down the Eleven- I hated that, you know, because I couldn’t stand seeing you in danger. And I couldn’t believe how lucky I was, every day, when you came into the Tardis and smiled at me. I wanted you to be happy, Helen, more than anything. So I thought- I didn’t want to get close to you because people around me, the people I care about, so many of them get in trouble and some get hurt and some die and I can never do enough to help them. And I thought the best thing I could do was let you go, and spare you that.’

‘Liv-’

‘I didn’t think it was possible for you to even like me, Helen. I’m not a good friend. Molly- she understands, and the Doctor does too, and Charley and C’rizz, because we’re all broken in some way. But you- you’re perfect, Helen, and I was so scared that if you stayed around then I’d hurt you. So I never said anything.’

‘But you’re amazing, Liv. You’re so brave, and kind, and you fight so hard for your friends, and I could scarcely believe it when you decided I was one of them!’

Suddenly, they’re both laughing, almost hysterically, and, shakily, Helen crosses back across the room to join her friend.

‘I can’t just let you go, Liv’, she says, softly. ‘Except there’s no way any of my skills can stop the Ravenous. There’s nothing I can do to help!’

‘We’re not going to let them win. And even if they do- even if, somehow, they manage to take the Tardis from us- I’m not going to abandon you, Helen. Not as long as you want me here.’

‘…Would you mind horribly if I kissed you, Liv?’

‘You know, I think I’d like that.’

 

Both of their phones buzz, simultaneously. With trembling fingers, Liv reaches over, and taps on the message.

**_Molly O’Sullivan:_ ** _Have you two lovebirds got your act together yet?_

**_Charley Pollard:_ ** _Please say yes. SOME of us have money on it._

Helen laughs, slumps against Liv’s chest. ‘Were they betting on us?’

‘Oh, I could kill them’, Liv growls. ‘If they think-’

‘No, no, it’s cute’, Helen assures her. ‘At least this should mean you won’t have any problems at work.’

Liv snorts. ‘Quite the opposite, apparently. They’ll probably be ecstatic.’

 

**_Molly O’Sullivan:_ ** _Oh, by the way, the Ravenous are coming tomorrow_

**_Molly O’Sullivan_** _: But we don’t want to see you here_ _until 5am at the very earliest_

**_Molly O’Sullivan:_ ** _Do something fun for the evening and DO NOT COME BACK TO THE TARDIS_

**_Molly O’Sullivan:_ ** _Doctor’s orders_


	6. Night of the Doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a quote in here which is lifted almost word-for-word from "Night of the Doctor". Obviously, it isn't mine.

The Tardis is quiet. It feels _wrong_.

He’d asked them to leave- ordered them away, really. The Tardis is his home, and if he’s going to lose it- if they haven’t done enough and the Ravenous wreck them- then he wants to spend these last few, precious moments alone here. Just like it started, all those years ago.

So, here he is. Pacing the corridors, tracing his fingers along the walls, breathing in the scent of polished floors and the faintest trace of cinnamon hanging in the air.

The only thing he can hear is his footsteps padding softly on well-worn floorboards.

It was like this when he first arrived- no electricity on the first night, so he’d navigated by touch rather than sight, too excited to sleep, and it wasn’t like he’d had a bed to sleep in anyway. Instead, he’d paced the corridors, giddy with excitement, adrenaline spiking every time he tread on a creaking floorboard.

The Tardis was his, in a way he hadn’t experienced before. Oh, she was shabby, worn down, still with the marks of her previous owner. But that didn’t matter, did it? Just meant she had a personality of her own even before he got to make his mark.   
They’d grown together- changed together. He’d painted the door blue on his second day, dreaming of stars. Knocked down a handful of walls over the coming weeks, leaving only the essential supports, expanding the downstairs. He hadn’t even known he was making a tea shop, back then. He just did what felt right and hoped it wouldn’t bring the place down completely.

Apparently, that didn’t end too badly.

Slowly, he descends the stairs, instinctively avoiding the creaking floorboard on the eighth. Steps onto the ground floor, cautiously removing his hand from the wall and walking forwards. The counter looms in the darkness ahead of him, and he panics for a moment, imagining a labyrinth stretching out in front of him, obstacles that will bring him crashing down- then he stops, and smiles, and moves forward with confidence. He knows every inch of this place.

‘Just you and me, old girl’, he murmurs. ‘One last time.’

There’s a gurgle from the pipes, and he smiles. He knows, logically, that she’s just a building, but sometimes, he wonders if there might just be something more.

He starts pacing again, running his fingertips along the edge of the counter until he hits empty air. Crosses the gap in a few strides, feels his coat brush against one of the armchairs- the first one he bought, actually, except then Charley thought it was uncomfortable and bought the most enormous pillow, and C’rizz hated the colour and threw a blanket over it too.

His fingers catch the tassels of the blanket, and he finds himself smiling. If the Tardis had been quiet that first night, it hadn’t stayed that way for long, not once Charley marched in the doors. He still wasn’t exactly sure when she’d gone from an unwanted guest to his best friend, but at some point, the idea of her leaving had become almost more unbearable than the thought of losing the Tardis herself. That- that hadn’t been pleasant, at all, but he’d been able to come back eventually, Charley at his side, as well as an awkward teenager they’d somehow picked up along the way.

C’rizz… oh, he’d been a challenge at first, that much was certain, but now? He can’t imagine this place without him. Then Lucie had showed up, trouble for almost the exact opposite reasons, and he’d wondered if he was really running a home for lost children. A bit like Peter Pan, perhaps. She’d come, and she’d gone, and she’d come back and left again and built herself a life beyond these walls, but her laughter still clings to the place.

Molly, then Liv. Doctors, the both of them- well, far closer to the medical profession than him, that much is certain, both of them no-nonsense and more than willing to pull him into line. They should have been better than this- both of them seemed destined for far more than this little shop- but they stayed, even once the chaos died down and they could’ve gone home. They stayed- moved into the rooms which Charley and C’rizz had vacated and somehow, he still wasn’t alone.

Helen’s part of it too, of course, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. It’s only a matter of time.

He pauses in the centre of the room, turning slowly. Helen’s usual spot, slight depressions in the carpet from where Liv usually stands to talk to her. Lucie’s old iPod, screen cracked and shoved carelessly in amongst his collection of CDs. And there, that corner, that’s where Charley introduced C’rizz to the concept of a pillow fight, and over there is where Molly was too busy laughing to patch up the damage. There’s his old copy of _Alice in Wonderland_ on the shelf, and just next to it is Charley’s one, and- are those Liv’s old engineering textbooks? Huh, he could’ve sworn that his copy of _Frankenstein_ was supposed to be there. Never mind. Maybe someone’s borrowing it.

‘Oh, you foolish, foolish Doctor. This place isn’t about you at all, is it?’

With a sudden burst of manic energy, he darts over towards the window, and yanks back one of the curtains. The streetlamp outside casts a faint ray of light into the room. It isn’t enough, so he tears back the next one, and the next, and the next, until the Tardis is shining under eerie moonlight, strange shadows thrown in every direction by the streetlights.

He pauses for a moment, breathless, then spins around and dashes for the store cupboards.

It’s going to be hard, of course. And he doesn’t have very much time, but hey, he’s always worked well under pressure. 

‘Charley, C'rizz-’ he pulls down several boxes, navigating by memory and touch and smell and instinct- ‘Lucie-’ spices this time, something with fire- ‘Molly, Liv-’ the healers, with such life, maybe ginger, maybe something else- ‘Helen-’ more restrained, he thinks, maybe a dash of milk at the end? ‘friends, companions I’ve known, I salute you!’

Grinning widely, he sets to work.

 

They arrive early in the morning- far earlier than the Doctor told them to arrive, but none of them slept well anyway. Liv and Helen turn up hand in hand, running into the other three on the corner. It’s a testament to how stressed they all are that this is greeted with nothing more than faint smiles.

The Tardis already looks open- all the curtains have been pulled back, with light streaming in the windows. The door is flung open wide, and the sound of clattering pans emerges from the kitchens. The five of them exchange a nervous glance.

There’s a sign out on the footpath- a board with words in blue chalk scrawled across it in the scribble of someone with far too much to say and not enough time or space to say it.

‘NEW TEA BY DOCTOR BREW’, the sign reads. ‘COME IN AND TRY!!!’


	7. Stop the Clock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter. It's been a rough week. 
> 
> Almost done, though! Which is actually kind of disappointing, and writing the conclusion of this story is proving much harder than the random shenanigans leading up to it...

The Ravenous turn up two minutes after their official opening time, to find a café overflowing with people. Apparently, the Doctor’s sign (and Liv’s discreet Facebook post, since her and Lucie seem to be the only ones with a grasp of actual modern technology) have garnered a lot of interest on top of their usual morning crowd.

Helen’s staked out in her usual spot, and is cheerfully defending it from all comers, while keeping a discreet eye on the small crowd in suits who don’t seem to know exactly what to make of the pandemonium. For the rest of them, it’s full steam ahead.

The Doctor’s on tea, of course, since he _is_ the only one who actually knows how to brew his newest invention. It’s utter chaos- not only is he running through his supply of the new creation about as fast as he can throw it together, there’s a reasonable number of people ordering their regular teas as well. The others have taken to giving him a wide berth, lest they have an encounter with a flailing elbow.   
The Doctor, for his part, doesn’t seem to be at all concerned about this. On the contrary, he seems to be having the time of his life, and is dancing around with an enthusiasm that his friends haven’t seen in years.

Liv, too, seems to be enjoying herself, and is taking a great deal of joy out of fighting the coffee machine into submission. She isn’t as busy this morning, not with the fuss over the Doctor, so the random stutters and spurts the thing generates are far closer to manageable than they usually are. She’s bantering back and forth with Molly on the register, the two of them working in tandem with practiced ease.

Her good mood is certainly being helped by the fact that while Charley is technically on table service, she seems more than willing to pass that job to Liv every time it would take her past Helen.

Charley bounces into the kitchen to relieve C’rizz of his latest stack of clean dishes, grinning widely. ‘I hope you aren’t too bored in here. It’s practically bedlam outside! But it’s certainly going well. I somehow doubt these Ravenous fellows could call us anything other than successful, not on a day like this.’

‘Oh, I’m aware’, he grumbles. ‘Do you know how many mugs I’ve washed this morning? And we’ve barely been open an hour!’

She laughs. ‘We can swap, if you’d like.’

‘Oh, I’m more than happy keeping out of the way. I’m a bit worried about the Ravenous, though. They’re just standing there.’ He jerks his head towards the group, who have shuffled as far away from the register as they can manage, and appear to be interviewing patrons while they wait for a chance to order. Several of them are clustered around Helen’s table, and nodding severely in response to something she’s said.

‘Mm, they are. Waiting for things to die down so that they can talk to us, I suppose.’ She hesitates. ‘It’s probably far too much to hope that this keeps up and we don’t actually have to deal with them? I’m sure Helen will say nice things about us.’

‘I doubt it. Look, one of them is coming over now.’

Sure enough, a woman has broken off of the group and is heading towards the counter. Charley gives C’rizz a grim smile, then squares her shoulders and heads back out again.

‘Let me handle this’, the Doctor murmurs, catching Molly’s arm as soon as he sees the ravenous approach.

‘Actually, I’d quite like to speak to your staff, if that’s alright’, the woman says. The Doctor looks like he’s going to argue, but Molly just shoots him a look, pulls herself free, and asks if they’d prefer to talk here or someplace quieter. They end up over by the speakers, with every eye in the establishment trained on them.

One of the other members of the group heads over to Charley, who’s just taken over the register, and begins gesturing at the boards.

And so it begins.

 

 

It’s almost lunchtime by the time they leave. They’ve been nothing if not thorough- every single one of them has been interviewed, on topics ranging from food safety (well-rehearsed), to working dynamics (easy), to how they were recruited (not so easy, with a couple glaring omissions). Between them, the ravenous ordered at least one of almost every item on the menu, so they’ve been run ragged trying to keep up with the demand.

All of them watch the Ravenous retreat down the street with something akin to awe.

‘You weren’t kidding’, Liv groans, dropping into the sofa next to Helen. ‘They were brutal.’

‘I don’t think it went that badly, though’, Molly comments, before slouching down in one of the armchairs itself. ‘Nothing went wrong, and we’ve been busy all morning.’

‘They asked me some strange questions’, C’rizz worries. ‘What if I said something wrong?’

‘Nonsense, C’rizz, I’m sure you were fine.’ Charley looks about ready to collapse, so grabs C’rizz and heads for one of the spare sofas.

All of you were fine.’ The Doctor is the only one of them who doesn’t look like he’s about to fall over, and since he definitely got no sleep last night, none of them are entirely sure they want to know how. ‘You know, I think we might have just managed it! They looked almost- well, not happy, but they didn’t look murderous!’

‘Yay’, Liv mutters, voice muffled by a pillow. ‘Non-murderous restaurant reviewers. It’s our lucky day.’

Molly snorts. ‘Any chance of us closing early today?’

‘But-’ the Doctor looks around, and for the first time seems to notice just how exhausted they all are. His shoulders slump. ‘Oh, all right. But only if we can build a pillow fort.’

There’s no response. He looks towards C’rizz- usually overjoyed at the prospect of anything involving the possibility of a pillow fight- and finds that Charley’s already sprawled across him, asleep. C’rizz looks about ready to join her.

‘… or not’, he murmurs, and heads upstairs to find some spare blankets.


	8. The Light at the End

 ‘Ready?’ The Doctor asks, from his position at the computer.

‘Oh, just hurry up, Doctor, I don’t think I can stand waiting any longer!’ Charley groans. Helen nods vehemently, clearly torn between shoving the Doctor out of the seat and reading for herself, and staying where she is with her girlfriend.

‘Oh, all right, I’m getting there! Now. Where were we? Ah, yes. Food review: the Tardis café, 107 Baker Street. Now, I wonder… Oh, did they say that? Really? But I thought… well then.’

‘DOCTOR!’

‘Hmm? Is there a problem? Oh, you want me to read it out loud? Right, sorry!’

‘For goodness sake, Doctor, if you don’t tell us right now, I swear I’m going to-’

‘Now, now, Charley, surely you wouldn’t threaten me… All right. “The Tardis is a quaint”- they called us quaint? Is that a good thing or a bad thing?’

‘I rather think it depends on the context’, Helen replies, exasperated. ‘I don’t suppose you could read a little faster?’

He rolls his eyes, but obediently returns his attention to the report. “The Tardis is a quaint tea shop situated at number 107 Baker Street. Nestled in amongst an ever-expanding strip of chain restaurants, its remarkably eclectic owner, the self-styled “Doctor Brew”, has forged a niche market for specialty teas which have proved popular amongst a more eccentric class of Londoner”- you know, this is looking far more positive than I was expecting it would… “Popular with students at the nearby University of Westminster, bla bla bla… good quality teas and coffees, a rarity amongst the ever-commercialised industry”… look! C’rizz! They mention your art! “supporting local artists and grassroots movements”. And- Helen, I assume this quote was you? Very nice, thank you.’

Molly starts laughing. I told you we’d be fine, you silly man’, she whispers, hugging the Doctor tightly. He laughs, buries his face in her shoulder. ‘Yes you did. Molly O’Sullivan, you are brilliant!’

‘Oh, give the rest of us some credit’, Charley offers, but she’s smiling widely, and when the Doctor thrusts an arm in her direction, she doesn’t hesitate to join the hug.

‘Are these private, or am I allowed to join?’ C’rizz asks, looking on in bewilderment. ‘Oh, you’re welcome to join us, C’rizz. Let’s allow Helen and Liv a bit of privacy, though,’ Charley adds, when she catches sight of the other two, apparently completely absorbed in each other.

‘Charley, C’rizz, Molly, Liv, Helen-’ The Doctor glances at the last two, then returns his focus to the former, ‘We’re basically unbeatable, aren’t we?’

‘It looks that way, doesn’t it, Doctor?’ Charley replies. ‘All of us, and the Tardis. Nothing in the universe can stop us now.’

 

(Unnoticed by all of them, the phone rings. If they’d answered it then and there, it’s entirely possible that Charley would have retracted her statement. But they didn’t, so all was well.

Temporarily.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it. For now, the completed adventures of Doctor Brew and his merry gang of misfits. 
> 
> There are no plans at the present to continue this. However, I do know who was on the other end of that phone call, and they *might* just warrant a story of their own. I also know how most of the characters ended up working at the Tardis in the first place, and several of those tales would be absolutely ludicrous if I can actually get around to writing them... so never say never, I guess. 
> 
> Thanks for reading this!!! I must admit, I wasn't actually expecting anyone else to be even slightly interested in this idea, so I'm a bit shocked every time I check the statistics for this story. Receiving comments makes my day every time, you're all so nice!


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